How to Catch a Cowboy in 10 Days

by Kimberly Krey

  “Yeah,” he said, further intrigued.

  A coy smile pulled at Ann’s rather tempting lips.

  “What?” he asked.

  She shrugged, and her gaze dropped to her drink. He watched as she pulled in a deep breath, an unspoken conflict brewing in her green eyes. Eyes that now dodged both him and the crowd in the corner. Had he offended her?

  In the moment of contemplation, Trey brought his drink to his lips, tipped his head back and gulped it down. Yet before he was through, Ann surprised him with two simple words.

  “Let’s play.”

  Trey swallowed the last swig. A new song kicked up in the background. He set down the glass. “What was that?”

  Dang, that smile was sexy. And so was the blush that filled her lovely cheeks. “You heard me. Let’s go play.” It felt as if she’d asked him to kiss her right there and then. At least that’s how his insides responded. Pulse racing. Fire roaring in his belly. Just what was this woman doing to him?

  Already Ann was scooting her chair out to stand. Trey shot up from his chair to join her, scooting it in awkwardly as she rounded the table. He stepped closer to her, and Ann wrapped her small hand around his bicep. Friendly. Flirtatious, even. It felt nice there.

  “Have you ever played this before?” she asked.

  Trey had read her lips to make up for what he couldn’t hear. He tipped his head toward her as he answered, speaking close to her ear to talk over the music. “A few times.”

  “And did you win?” Her eyes were guarded, as if she dreaded what he might say in return.

  “To be honest, I’ve only played once as the ring tosser. Other times I was asked to join a particular lady in line while they tossed the rings.” They were at the back of the line now, and Trey leaned his shoulder onto the mirrored wall.

  Ann took a step closer before firming her feet in place. He wondered how tall she was without the extra inches her shoes gave.

  “When you were the ring tosser, did you win?”

  Trey held her gaze, hoping that it would speak for his luck that night. “Yes.”

  Chapter 7

  Ann could hardly believe she’d done it. She’d actually suggested that she and Trey play a bar game that, if played successfully, would result in a kiss between them. It was the type of thing she’d seen Zoe do a hundred times. The type of thing Ann wished she could do, but never dared to attempt. And she had to admit—after hearing Cassie talk about how men perceived her—it was the type of thing that gave guys hope. Already Trey’s demeanor was lighter. His smiles, broader. Gazes, longer. Perhaps what Cassie said was true. Maybe Ann’s actions really had made certain guys feel as if they hadn’t stood a chance.

  Ann ran her eyes over the length of her date. Her tall, dark, and delicious date. His casual lean against the mirrored wall accented the muscles along his forearms. The smile on his face, bright and brilliant, had been put there by her. She was on some sort of high. The assertive energy giving birth to a whole new her. The New You You Never Knew, she mused. This was definitely going at the top of her progress sheet. Tom was going to be so proud. In fact, her bowtie-wearing boss would probably drop dead on the spot if he could see it for himself. Especially if Trey made one of the shots. She could picture it now—like the scene out of a chick flick. He’d make the shot, get the kiss…

  “What are you thinking about, Annie?”

  She’d barely heard the words over the music. “Just work,” she admitted.

  Trey straightened, shifted his weight, and hooked a thumb through a belt loop on his jeans. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. We’re here at a noisy bar in a crowded line, waiting to play a game where our lips might actually touch…” he shot her a wink, “and you’re thinking about work?” Trey pressed a hand over his chest like he’d been stabbed. “That hurts.”

  Ann laughed, more affected by that wink than she wanted to admit. “Well…” She wasn’t exactly dying to tell him of her latest project. Would he see her as weak for needing some book to come out of her shell? It was a part of herself she didn’t like all that much. The very part she was trying to change. She didn’t want it to become the topic of conversation. “I’m not thinking about it anymore, if that makes a difference.”

  He chuckled under his breath. “An editor slash writer who thinks of her job while off the clock. Fair enough. I think about the ranch in my sleep sometimes, so I get it.”

  Ann nodded. She wouldn’t mind thinking about Trey on the ranch in her sleep as well.

  “So tell me, what do you like to write?”

  Telling Trey about what she normally wrote was better than telling him about the piece she planned to write, so Ann decided to stick with that. “Freelance pieces. Usually to help shed light on an injustice of some sort. Something that catches my attention. I’m not the type to always speak up for myself, so when I see somebody else who doesn’t seem to have a voice, I like to write about it and expose the situation. Whether it gets published or not, I send a copy to the offender.”

  “Wow,” he said. “That’s interesting. A voice for the voiceless. I like that.”

  A dose of warmth rushed to her face. Did he miss the part that said she was often voiceless herself? She noticed then that Zoe and Randy had reached the front of the line. “They’re up!” She grabbed Trey’s arm, pulled him to see around the couples waiting in line.

  Randy let one ring fly. And then another. Both missed.

  “How many rings are there?” she asked, her eyes never leaving the sight.

  Randy missed a third time. “Half-a-dozen,” Trey said with a chuckle.

  Randy wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve. Three left. Two. Still none had landed around a bottle top. Just as he was about to toss the final ring, Zoe jumped in front of him, snagged the ring from his hand, and addressed the crowd.

  “Should I do it?” she asked.

  The couples in line began to cheer. Ann joined in. So did Trey.

  Zoe took aim at the bottle tops. With all eyes set on her, she did a series of preparatory tosses. When it looked like she was about to let it fly, Zoe surprised them by speeding over to the counter and slipping the ring over one of the bottlenecks by hand. With her arms raised triumphantly in the air, Zoe addressed the crowd once more. “Right?” she cheered. “That’s how it’s done.”

  A mixture of cheers and jeers warred over the music, but it sounded like the cheers won out. Randy took two long strides toward Zoe, whose smile took up half her face. Ann stepped farther away from her spot in line to see as Randy proceeded to place both hands on Zoe’s face. And then he kissed her. Long and hard as more cheers sounded.

  “Holy shizzard.” It may have been Zoe’s trademark phrase, but the words had stumbled off of Ann’s lips this time. Just what in the world had she gotten herself into? Getting kissed like that in front of a loud, drunken audience was her worst nightmare. In a chick flick it’d be all music and filters. Perfect head tilts and encouraging cheers. But with Ann’s nerves and lack of experience, theirs would look more like a sad, awkward comedy. Ann talking before their lips met. Or maybe leaning in for a longer kiss as Trey pulled away, while some loser in the background shouted a raunchy comment. This was why Ann said no to stuff like this. The odds simply were not in her favor.

  “Having second thoughts?” Trey’s low husky voice sent goosebumps up her arms. A quick thrill raced through her chest, crashing into the anxious knot that had gathered there. With one hand at her lower back, he urged her to where they’d been standing. “We don’t need to play if you’d rather not.”

  Ann’s gaze had been fixed on her hands, where she scratched the back of her fingers. But at his comment, she forced herself to stop and shift her gaze to his. Those deep brown eyes seemed to capture the glow of the hanging lights from the nearby pool tables. They were mesmerizing. It took her a moment to recall what he’d just said to her. Something about backing out if she’d rather not play. Don’t back out, Ann. Play the stupid game. “No,” she said, “I’m good to play. Of
course.” She forced a smile.

  The truth was, the other couples hadn’t gathered the kind of attention Randy and Zoe had. In true Zoe fashion, her friend had done something out of the norm, earning her and the rowdy ranch hand a round of interested spectators.

  Still, Ann’s breathing came faster than normal. Shallower, too.

  “So how many siblings do you have, Ann?”

  “Four,” she said with a nod. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see the line move up once more. The couple walking away looked defeated. She turned back to see Trey watching her. An amused, almost knowing grin pulled at his full, luscious lips.

  “Are you the oldest? Youngest? Somewhere in-between?” He stood close to her, face to face so they could hear each other talk over the music.

  Ann wasn’t normally so scatterbrained. She had to get with the program. Quick. “I’m the second to youngest. Jeff and John—dentist and pediatrician—are older than me. Jill’s older than me, too; she’s one of Seattle’s top real estate brokers. And Jane, the one younger than me, she owns a ridiculously successful bar in downtown Seattle.” She fiddled with one of her earrings while Trey seemed to study her.

  “Wow,” he said at last.

  “Yeah. What about you?” She was anxious to shift the focus off herself.

  Trey—a good half-foot taller than she was—hunched down as he answered. “I’m the oldest. Got two younger sisters who are now in their teens. Dating and driving and growing up too fast. I’ve got two step-brothers, too. My mom remarried when I was fourteen. Simon and Sam are twins. Twelve-year-old wannabe cowboys.”

  “Because of their older brother?” she asked, feeling a bit more at ease already.

  He chuckled, his expression turning bashful. “Guess so. Poor kids.”

  The band started up with a new song, and a large group on the dance floor broke into a line dance. Ann spotted Zoe and Randy in the mix, moving right along with the rest of the group with ease.

  “Do you plan on ranching your whole life?” Ann asked.

  They took a few steps closer toward the front of the line. “Yes,” he said. “I’ll inherit a ranch a dozen miles from the Emerson’s property. The owner, his name’s Al Meyer, is a close friend of mine. Almost like a grandfather to me. He lost his wife a few years back, and his new wife wants to retire someplace that’s warm year-round.”

  “A close friend?” Must be really close if he planned to give Trey his ranch.

  Trey glanced down, kicked at a small cluster of peanut shells on the ground. “Yeah. It’s kind of a long story. I was close to Al’s granddaughter throughout high school. He and I have stayed connected since then. He doesn’t have a whole lot of family, and the family he does have is more interested in selling the property than running a ranch.” Trey set his gaze back on her. “He’d rather give it to someone who’s willing to run it instead of sell it. And that’s me.”

  “Hmm.” Ann wondered what the place looked like. It could be small and modest. A handful of cattle, a few horses, and an old tattered barn. Or was it something more substantial? A place where he’d need to employ ranch hands of his own? Both options charmed her. “So do you guys still use things like lassos to round up calves and all that?”

  Trey chuckled. “Yep. Gotta round them all up every year for immunizations and branding. It’s quite the process, and the young ones can be real rascals. Takes a quick hand and a trained eye to get them where you want them.”

  Ann could see it now. Trey out on the land, barreling along on his galloping horse while swinging that blessedly worn rope overhead. She couldn’t imagine anything more appealing in that moment.

  “Looks like we’re up,” Trey said, nodding to the game area at her back.

  Ann felt her eyes widen as she turned to look over her shoulder. They were up. Her throat got tight again. Oh, please let our turn be uneventful. No need to have others take notice. Trey could toss the rings. He’d probably miss them since it seemed most couples did, and then they’d move on to something else.

  Trey rounded up the rings and walked back toward her with a probing look in his eyes. “You saw that nearly eighty percent of the time, we men fail at this, right?” His question seemed to ask something more, but Ann wasn’t sure what he was getting at.

  “You might think that the odds are in your favor, is all I’m saying. And you could be right. But if I do happen to loop one of those bottles,” he said, nodding toward the bin, “are you really willing to relinquish the prize?”

  Prize? Her kiss was his prize. Tingly things were happening to her insides. Her heart sped into some new rhythm, nearly matching the fast-paced song the band was playing. She tore her eyes off the sight of those gold rings in his hands, lifted her gaze to meet his. “Yes.” Her voice sounded shaky, but at least it had come.

  Trey grinned, shifted all the rings to his left hand save one, and squared his shoulders toward the game. A beat-up strip of duct tape marked the tossing point. Trey stood just behind it. “Here goes nothing.”

  The first ring left his hand, sped toward the display while flashes of light bounced off its surface. It hit the front of one bottle before disappearing into the gray bin. The second one bounced off the bottles before landing on the floor. The third did a similar thing.

  Trey paused, and Ann noticed the song had ended. A new, slow number picked up. Trey glanced at her over his shoulder. “This is my lucky song,” he said.

  She lifted her brows. “It is?”

  A gorgeous grin took over his handsome face. “It will be soon.” He lifted the fourth ring to level it just a bit higher than the bottle tops. His eyes narrowed. And then it was off, heading toward the empty bottles with great precision. Ann knew—with as loud as the bar was—that she would not hear any clanking made by the metal on glass, but she imagined it just the same as the gold ring caught the top of one tinted bottle. It circled the long neck of the thing like a hula hoop before sliding down to rest.

  Modest cheers sounded from behind them, mostly men. One nudged Trey’s shoulder and congratulated him with a fist bump.

  “Go easy on her,” a familiar voice hollered. Zoe’s voice! “She hasn’t kissed many guys.”

  Ann turned to see Randy and Zoe sitting up to the bar a few feet down from the game. Her face flushed with heat.

  “Well that makes two of us,” Trey joked in reply. He moved directly in front of Ann, and then, seeming to shield her from the couple’s gaze, mumbled “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

  Heat zoomed over her skin at his words.

  The truth of that promise became evident as Trey’s hands slid over her neck, the slightly calloused tips of his fingers teasing every sense she owned.

  Ann reached out in response, tentatively wrapping her hands along his waist. He was warm and solid, and the scent of him—spicy cologne and leather—lured her in all the more.

  Being shorter than Trey, Ann fit nicely beneath the rim of Trey’s cowboy hat. Still, he removed it, rested it against her back while wrapping an arm around her.

  With lips soft and warm, Trey slowly traced the small peaks along her upper lip. Ann lifted her chin in time to accept the full press of his mouth to hers. One short kiss. Mmm.

  Ann tilted the slightest bit as he came in for another kiss. Gentle. Perfect.

  His hand slid up her neck, cradled her face as he pulled away. Ann’s eyes flitted open. She set her gaze on him in the moment of residual bliss, and saw something that looked a whole lot like desire. Could he see the same thing in hers? Because all she wanted in that moment was more.

  The crowd was cheering. Really cheering, like they had for Zoe and Randy.

  Trey placed his hat back on his head, wrapped an arm around her back once again. “Let’s get out of the spotlight. Sound good?”

  She nodded, still stunned by the moment that was definitely not like an awkward comedy. Far from it. Everything about the kiss, and all that led up to it, was perfect.

  That thought was interrupted when Zoe came alo
ngside and took hold of her arm.

  “Ladies room,” She explained, giving Trey a smile. “I’ll bring her right back. Promise.”

  Chapter 8

  Lips like Ann’s were meant to be kissed. Kissed by a man who appreciated them. And Trey was definitely that man. Hearing Zoe say that Ann hadn’t kissed a whole lot of guys had only whet his appetite for her all the more.

  He hadn’t planned to kiss her tonight, but who was he to deny her? After all, it was Ann who’d suggested they play the game.

  “Whoa, ha-ho!” Randy bellowed, throwing his arm around him from behind. “Looks like someone’s learning to loosen up and have a good time.”

  Trey shook his head, leading Randy to their abandon drinks on the corner table. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

  “I can’t help it. When was the last time you kissed someone?”

  Trey sunk into his chair and reached for his drink. “About sixty seconds ago.”

  “Very funny.” Randy motioned to Ann’s drink. “What’s she got in there?”

  “Diet Coke.”

  Randy tipped his head. “With…”

  “With nothing.” Trey fought back a smile at Randy’s wide-eyed reaction.

  “So she let you lay one on her in the middle of a bar and she was sober? Zoe says that’s nothing like her!”

  Trey stared at the glass. “Well I saw him make it myself.” He puffed out his chest and straightened his shoulder. “Maybe it’s just me. I’m irresistible.”

  Randy bellowed out a laugh. “Yeah, dude. Maybe.” He shot to his feet then. “I’m going to grab us some more drinks before she comes back.”

  Trey ran his gaze over the sea of heads, emotion stirring strong within him. A few words sifted through his mind: desire, excitement, lust maybe. No, all of them felt off until the next one came: hope.

  That was it. Being so open to a shot at love—that wasn’t like him at all. And by the sound of it, Ann’s behavior toward him was out of the norm as well.